


True Friendship Is...

by CampionSayn



Category: Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Ultimateverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Hand Jobs, Ignoring Canon, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, The adults are utterly useless, Two Shot, variation on the sex pollen trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5571398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ganke was really wondering when he would get something going on near the end of high school, but he really didn't think it would happen quite this way. Especially the desperate begging. </p><p>Or, that one time Miles went with the Avengers to do something and regretted it so very, very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Essential Certainty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twilight_Shadow_Songs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_Shadow_Songs/gifts).



> Okay, I would like one two-way ticket to hell, if you please since, heh, that’s the appropriate outcome to this…That and hating myself significantly.

_-:-_  
_There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice._  
_-F. Scott Fitzgerald._

* * *

 

 _“You ever wonder what it would be like to have your best friend come onto you when he has no other choice? Although, coming on probably isn’t quite the right phrase. More like begging for your help after getting sprayed with a drug not even the Avengers are up to date on, that can only be alleviated by having—I wish I was kidding—an orgasm._  
  
_This trope from the internet apparently has a foothold in reality for superheroes, and while the adult superheroes are aware of it (isn’t that a kick in the head?) they are not going to assist in ridding a seventeen year old of the symptoms no matter how sorry they feel for him._  
  
_Which is where I come in…_  
  
_Please don’t read too much into that.”_

* * *

 

Walking in on his roommate in the middle of personal issues really wasn’t that outside the norm for Ganke. To the contrary, Miles seemed to fill up his entire life with issues, personal or otherwise, that took up his time and brought Ganke into it sooner rather than later.  
  
Such was the life of a superhero and his pretty-much-the-only-one-there assistant/best friend.  
  
And, really, it was their own fault that the incidents kept piling up as both school roommates and people not-quite-squatting in an abandoned building ( _owned by Tony Stark, which made them suspicious when no building managers came to check on the place, but got pushed to the back of their minds as time went on_ ) being used as a temporary operations space until they turned eighteen and got their own place that didn’t have parents milling about that could hear what they were doing any time of the day that they weren’t at work.  
  
Finding Miles with his suit pooled on the dusty wooden floorboards and in the middle of attending to much more teenage needs, on the other hand was… new.  
  
Especially since the only thing keeping the room warm was an electric space heater and the fireplace Ganke was just in the middle of building up to add some more degrees to the room with cardboard boxes left over from his TV dinners, newspaper snatched up from back alleys on the way there that night and the seven really heavy blocks of wood they sold at the gas station seven blocks down for the ridiculous price of ten dollars _(really, why charge so much—they were going to be burned to ashes and were tied up with crappy bio-degradable rope; honestly)._ Ganke had watched his breath turn to mist the whole nine flights of stairs up and the same misty puffs were leaving Miles. That and what looked like steam radiating off of him, for the ten seconds it took Ganke to drop his cargo and cover his eyes with both hands.  
  
Then he promptly hit his face with the door as he grabbed it to give his friend some privacy before reacting as any other teenager would.  
  
“Dude, really?! If you needed to do that, at least put a sock on the door!”  
  
“Sorry…Sorry…Sorry… I didn’t think about it…”  
  
The panting was not appreciated, even as it petered out and Miles regained enough sense to stop his ministrations and sound sheepish.  
  
“Can I turn around or should I walk around the block?”  
  
“N-no, I, uh, it won’t go away. At least, not…Tony said…” Miles paused, and to Ganke’s ears and knowledge of him going back almost a decade, sounded like he was shuffling in place and chewing on his lips like he usually did when he had no idea what to say.  
  
“Ironman? You did this in front of Ironman, too? Dude, seriously—“  
  
“No! Tony only saw it after he ran diagnostics on everyone involved in this stupid mission we were all on—And I am not the only one he saw like this! There was himself, and Captain America, and Thor and-and-and—Oh my god, I hate them all and I hate the sick freak that made this happen, and I hate myself, I wanna die…”  
  
“Can you cover yourself so I can talk to you properly?”  
  
Awkward silence.  
  
Ganke flinched at the unmistakable sound of wet flesh being released and dropped against more wet skin as Miles bent over and picked up his suit.  
  
“Right, sorry. Okay, you can turn around now.”  
  
Ganke first locked the door with the bolt he’d gotten from the hardware store _(that was such a weird moment when his mom found it in his backpack looking for his latest grade report; he’d claimed it was to replace one at school which had gotten old and rusted in the boys bathroom that he’d broken, which he was still pretty certain she didn’t believe, but had let go after he’d claimed he didn’t want her to get stuck with a bill just because he had the worst luck with the cafeteria food)_ and then did just that, keeping Miles in his peripheral as he picked up the groceries and fire stuff he’d dropped.  
  
“Okay, from the beginning, with details, while I start the fire and shut the window, because, dude, your lips are turning blue, it is freezing, you should be wearing the suit and a jacket, not be naked. It’s only, like, twenty degrees outside.”  
  
“I know that,” Miles ground out pathetically, teeth clenched and wrapped his arms around his legs so he looked even smaller in the wooden chair he’d been sitting in for however long he’d been there while Ganke was out. The window shut, but he remained curled up, looking miserable, “But I _feel,_ like, a hundred degrees, which Tony said was also a side-effect that would persist until I get this…problem handled.”  
  
Ganke wandered over to the fireplace, lining the logs up like he assumed they were supposed to go based on what he’d heard from school friends that actually left the city in summer. Make them like a teepee, rip up the cardboard to place along the cracks and in the center, then tear up the newspaper to place it under and around the cardboard…  
  
Deciding it looked about right, if a little bent and floppy, Ganke pulled out the wooden matches he’d been carrying around and hoped they’d light as he called over his shoulder.  
  
“Okay, that doesn’t sound like a conversation I’d want to have with any of the Avengers. So what happened?”  
  
“There was this thing with Loki and Doom that I got roped into helping with because I can turn invisible, and it was actually going really well—considering I still have no idea what it was about--when I snuck into some medieval castle to get blueprints to something that looked suspiciously like a Viking Ironman. Then some alarm went off that Thor tripped over three levels below me, and there was this really creepy scientist that bought Doom some time to get away when he sprayed this weird, like, chemical thing into the air like a smoke bomb that smelled actually really good, and everyone was fighting and… Loki and Thor got into this spat, that cleared the air a little so we could at least _see_ , and it looked like the scientist realized that he’d made a mistake and it was the wrong chemical and was apologizing to Loki even when the guy was knocked out and we were on the jet home…” he trailed off, frustrated and showing it as he tried to get more comfortable without moving his problem around under the suit.  
  
Ganke flicked two matches into the fireplace that cracked and then finally got the third to light, pressing the flame to the paper and blowing it into fruition, “So then what?”  
  
“The most embarrassing thing so far in this gig. We were all talking and then the plane landed and everyone stood up and we all had…well… And Tony made this quip I still don’t get, and threatened the scientist. Long story short, the jerk sprayed us with a hybrid pheromone concoction that is only done after it’s completed its…purpose.”  
  
Ganke didn’t have to be a space station employee to understand the insinuation there, but there really was no way to be sure without asking verbally.  
  
He poked at the logs a little to get some of the bigger ones set up better and tried to sound a kind of casual that was not even remotely close to hitting the mark, “And the purpose would be…?”  
  
“Sex and an orgasm. He was making a very specific date rape drug for some human traffic ring, which Black Widow was not happy about. She punched him in his special place, like, ten times.”  
  
The stirring stick in Ganke’s hand cracked against the biggest log that finally caught fire and tried to pretend his voice didn’t catch when he turned around, “And by sex, you mean…?”  
  
“Everyone was calling their boyfriend or girlfriend or—in Tony’s case—both and told me they were sorry when I said I had none of the above, but they weren’t going to break any underage laws to help me out. And to top it off, Tony gave me this before booting me out.”  
  
Ganke doesn’t know how he could have missed them, but he definitely noticed in that moment as Miles awkwardly tapped his finger on the box of multi-packed condoms sitting on the table next to his half-finished Lego Menorah.  
  
Ganke tried not to feel like there was a giant elephant in the room and just stared at his best friend as he processed the words and the options and the scene he’d walked in on. The latter didn’t seem to compute with the need for condoms.  
  
Miles wrapped his arms much more tightly around his legs and appeared to be giving off even more heat despite the room getting the well-deserved attention it needed from the fire and the heater buzzing in the far corner of the room. Vapor trails were emanating off of his shoulders like he’d just come out of the shower, which meant, if Ganke recalled his biology classes properly, his body temperature was working in tandem with the production of sweat.  
  
“I’m sorry, but I feel like I’m hitting a wall here. You were in the middle of self-love when I got here, does that mean this can be undone without any outside assistance?”  
  
“I’ve been here thirty minutes thinking about all the Sports Illustrated women, _hoping_ —I repeat— _hoping_ that I wouldn’t have to ask for help. So, I guess that’s out since I think I sprained something and Tony was pretty insistent about the condoms.”  
  
The elephant in the room seemed to convert into a strained feeling in Ganke’s gut that reminded him of really spicy Indian food and caused him to almost stutter out a fruitless hope for his best friend.  
  
“W-wait, wait, wait, you don’t have a girlfriend.”  
  
“Gee, Ganke, how could I forget that?”  
  
“So, what, you can’t just leave it alone and hope it goes away with time?”  
  
“According to Tony, no.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“The drug requires some sort of release of endorphins that only comes from all of your muscles in a state of arrest for a moment or something that Tony tried explaining more thoroughly before basically giving up and simplifying, mostly for Thor, that if we don’t…release… then the blood will pool, cease its circulation and cause the afflicted appendage to fall off.”  
  
“…I take it that this drug wasn’t beyond the testing phase?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“And you absolutely need another person, because…?”  
  
“That was the drug’s _entire_ point.”  
  
Now the pressure in Ganke’s gut had basis and he looked at Miles like one would look at a dog they knew was on a trip to the vet that was not going to end well.  
  
Also, the reason why Miles had come to the hideout instead of home or school was more apparent than ever, ever, ever and Ganke sighed, asking the obvious and feeling sorry for the both of them. Seventeen year olds needed girlfriends for a reason and that had never had more bearing than it did before just then.  
  
“Me? Really? _Me_?”

* * *

 

 ** _“For the record, despite this being one of the worst possible ways to lose my virginity any way you look at it—and OMG, I looked around the internet and now have a new sympathy towards the FBI and amateur porn actors—it really wasn’t that bad._**  
  
**_Seriously, if I ever get a girlfriend I will be lucky if we ever have a time like this thing that will probably never be brought up again.”_**

* * *

 

After thirty minutes of bargaining and embarrassment and outright begging, making sure the room stayed at a good sixty degrees above chill, fishing some faded but clean blankets and sheets they kept stored in a box in one of the lower level closets in case they only got a few hours’ sleep after patrol and crime fighting _(the suit was not enough, and despite exuding so much heat, Ganke didn’t like Miles to be cold and dragged him off of the chair to nest by the fire),_ and realizing that oral sex was still labeled under sexual acts that all pre-teens and young adults indulged in at some point in their lives… Ganke gave in.  
  
Because, for one thing, Miles was starting to feel pain, and for another, Ganke really did not want his best friend to lose his junk just because neither of them were smart enough to think of a better solution.  
  
He didn’t quite expect to be so taken aback when he had Miles lay flat on the blankets, close his eyes and uncover himself.  
  
_Damn_.  
  
It was kinda scary up close and personal and not in, say, the gym locker rooms with a towel or thirty other students separating them from looking down and taking a good long look.  
  
Miles was large and uncut.  
  
“…How do you _not_ have a girlfriend again?” Slipped out of Ganke’s mouth even as he got on his stomach—still dressed, still dressed, this was for Miles and Ganke wasn’t looking for any form of reciprocation at all, thanks very much—and tried to get comfortable with dark legs on either side of him.  
  
Miles lifted his head and then slammed it back onto the floor. One, two, three. Ow.  
  
“Just saying…”


	2. PART TWO: Essential Vibration of the Universe

_-:-_  
_In this country ‘weird’ is allowed._  
_-Law and Order._

* * *

 

Ganke wasn’t gonna lie. He’d had fantasies before, but not like the kind free sites on the internet liked to assume people his age did. Yes, his goal—beyond Legos and the superhero assistance—in life was to eventually have a girlfriend (or significant other). Yes, he would eventually like to hold hands with and kiss this person.  
  
That’s where the fantasies usually end, because from what he’s seen on the internet, he had decided to wait things out until he finds that exactly right person to fit the bill for…anything else.  
  
Why?  
  
Porn, the limited stuff he’d looked at, never seemed to go well for the person on the bottom. True, they didn’t seem to do as much of the work and usually had an…orgasm…real or faked…sooner than the person topping, but then when the person on top finished…body fluids ended up on the recipient’s face.  
  
Which is why Ganke didn’t watch that much porn.  
  
He never could get beyond how sorry he’d feel for the people splattered and never got into anything more…well, romantic, for lack of any better phrasing since most free sites only had professional actors or really bad handheld camera videos. And apparently using search words like “happy” or “not fake” or “nice” didn’t work so--he was happy with Legos and learning techniques to better make the web fluid and occasionally send in some applications to SHIELD for the heck of it.  
  
And he was regretting it, in retrospect, now that he was trying to get comfortable between his best friend’s legs, and was poking at the…cock…standing at attention and staring at him and…oozing semi-clear fluid.  
  
He was suddenly very aware of the size difference between them—no, not just about _that_ , but in height and girth—and while he was significantly grateful for Miles not looking directly at him at the moment, hands bracing against his eyes and kneading his forehead trying to block out reality and the obvious urge to rut against his friend’s hand, he had to ask, because sucking him might not be the best way to start off.  
  
“Maybe you should lay in front of me first?”  
  
“Sure, whatever… gets this over and done with.”  
  
Being assertive as he usually was when trying to help Miles make a decision that would either lead to him getting killed or getting him to save the day, Ganke rolled his eyes, sat up with his legs crossing and lifted his best friend up so he was at least a little warmer in the cradle of Ganke’s legs. Miles yelped not unlike a started puppy at the sudden motion and Ganke perching his head atop Miles’s own, but he calmed down almost immediately at the comfortable position. This way there would be no awkward eye contact, which Miles couldn’t have been more grateful for— _Ah_ …  
  
Miles had to bite down on his lip and hissed a little as Ganke’s slightly larger arm tucked around his waist and just rubbed at his ribs and sides to relax him, while simultaneously with his other hand gently started wrapping around his dick and moved in motion with a round of heartbeats.  
  
Not the heartbeat in Miles’ chest, of course, he was too drugged up and freaked out to be going anywhere near a pulse below one hundred, but Ganke’s own probably fit the bill.  
  
Now, Miles wasn’t gonna lie, he’d jacked off plenty of times before; he was a teenager, for Christ’s sake, he wouldn’t be alive if he couldn’t do that. However, another person doing it for him felt so damn different, but in a good way, he had to wonder if what he was experiencing in the positive end of the spectrum was the drug or his own body’s response to being handled so well.  
  
“Mm-ah! Hah-ah, you’re actually kinda…good at this.”  
  
There was a fingernail tracing around and around the inside of his foreskin, the tip of Ganke’s finger actually wiggling against the head of his cock to spread the pre-cum and while Miles was slowly turning into a puddle of Spider-Man goo in Ganke’s lap, Ganke tried not to stop at his friend’s words. It was a good compliment he’d have to hold onto in the hopes of ever being in an intimate relationship, but…  
  
“I-Is that a w-w-weird thing to say—oh, oh-mm-mmm!”  
  
Ganke lifted his head a little when Miles lolled his skull along his friend’s collarbone and considered telling him the truth—damn right it was weird, but that ship had sailed—or telling a lie to help get this thing over with.  
  
“…Little bit, but if it helps, it’s a nice thing to hear.”  
  
Ganke had never been very good at lying right to Miles without a cellphone and some distance between them.  
  
Miles didn’t reply to that, but shook bodily when Ganke started increasing his pace around the head of his little friend, spreading the moisture building and then set to work with his other hand on the line of nerves that separated his balls with one finger and pressed his thumb against the line of skin above his least favorite orifice and under his sac. The pressure was working in tandem with the blood pumping to make him ever harder, so Miles had to stop lolling his head so he could turn it properly and lean his cheek against Ganke’s flannel shirt that looked like the blanket for a picnic in Central Park.  
  
Strong and limber legs spread bowed at the knee in the ten and two o’clock positions, one hand bracing the floor, kneading into the blankets and Miles allowed his other hand to hold onto the arm of the hand that was wiggling around his foreskin to work it up and down like the wrapper of a cheap popsicle sold in a box, “…Ganke…”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
Miles ground down on the fingers and ball of the palm rubbing and handling his ass and practically whimpered, “M-More. Please, please, _please_ …”  
  
Ganke set his jaw and mentally hummed the entry song to the _Lion King_ to pretend that he wasn’t getting aroused by the sighs and other such noises Miles made with each stroke he administered and tried not to rub his lower half against the soft backside pressing into his jeans that was also making the fabric tighter.  
  
He also did what Miles asked.  
  
“Okay, okay,” Ganke stated quietly as he let go of the twitchy cock and moved his hands to Miles’s shoulders to get him back into semi-regular thinking that gave him a disheartened groan, “Stand up and turn around so you can set the pace.”  
  
The magic words.  
  
Miles stumbled up and spun around like Ganke had fired off a starter’s pistol. His prick almost flicked Ganke with the steadily increasing amounts of cum across the face, but missed and got it along his neck.  
  
Ganke was actually a little impressed that Miles didn’t fall back on his ass with the way he was swaying. Ganke’s larger hands settled on his friend’s hips for a moment, steadying him so he could breathe and straighten his legs enough so Ganke wouldn’t accidentally bite off something important.  
  
Then he leaned in close and gave the head a kiss. Peeled back the foreskin and swirled his tongue over the slit and around the heavily glistening skin that flexed under his most flexible muscle.  
  
…Outside the window, with the falling of wet snow that stuck to frosted metal and leaked over like rainfall on stone, brick and cement, a taxi sped through a red light and a bright blue Pontiac honked its horn like the bray of an angry moose or sex seeking group of male deer. Three blocks over, a pair of working girls made their way home from the evening shift, laughing about a particular customer that had paid them each twenty dollars just to stand on other side of him with their breasts exposed while he set a camera to take their picture; he was only nineteen. A good mile up in the air the Human Torch and Iceman raced along the rooftops and kept taunting each other when one fell ahead or forward…  
  
Miles shut his mouth right and tight to exhale through his nose, hands running through Ganke’s hair as he sunk down nearly but not entirely to the base of his dick so his tongue played with the line of skin a few inches from his balls and his nose brushed along the just beginning flush of hairs that were still just seedlings, but certainly more than Ganke had for himself. The taste was bad, but not horrible and he did his best to keep from gagging but couldn’t get all of Miles down his throat.  
  
Ganke’s tongue teased the underside back and forth as Miles started rutting into his uvula and crested against his tonsils and the Lego enthusiast was reminded, absently, of those middle school games he and Miles never did get into. Spinning glass bottles or plastic Pepsi bottles with a circle of other giggling and overbearingly judgmental teens their own age waiting to see who would get locked in a closet for five minutes to see where things would go and how far things would escalate, while Miles and Ganke either made their way to the door to head home or sat on the sidelines as sort of referees for the sake of propriety. Neither of them had participated either because of fear of their parents finding out or because there was nobody there that they felt any connection to and Ganke was suddenly, astoundingly, glad he had passed it up.  
  
It would have diminished this experience and made it seem almost trivial. At the moment, he was compartmentalizing notes for how things had gone and might go and detailing references for if this thing might happen again, listing what made Miles quicken his pace or slow down, or, even better, what elicited a long winded moan or short gasp...  
  
Wrapping his lips a little tighter so that the foreskin curved all the way back and stayed that way…made Miles bend so that his stomach wrapped over Ganke’s head and he had to balance himself with his palms flat on Ganke’s shoulders.  
  
Removing one hand from bracing Miles up to fondle his hanging jewels and lightly tug at them…made Miles bob his knees in tandem and thrust twice in Ganke’s mouth at each tug.  
  
Continuing each maneuver in sync and then very precisely administering two fingers to the space between the warm, steadily getting slicker and tighter balls and the tight little hole that Ganke is fairly certain would be _way_ too much at the moment…pressing _that_ one spot that meant something to _Ganke_ himself in his alone time, in sure and steady rhythm: meant Miles crying out almost meek and unsure. As if he had just been thrown to the ground but caught himself before fatal impact. He curled in even more tightly to Ganke like he was going to pass out and Ganke simply stopped sucking otherwise he really _would_ have choked on the sheer amount of white that was flowing hot in bursts down his throat.

* * *

 

It took almost a minute plus for Miles to let go from Ganke and practically collapse into the blankets on the floor, body warm from itself and the drug finally leaving his system making him pleasantly peaceful as Ganke picked up another of the blankets to cover him up and apparently went to clean off the white excess and saliva from his face, jaw, neck and the top half of his shirt.  
  
Miles noted with a smirk he hadn’t been aware creeping along his lips that Ganke also had a couple spots on his cheek just under his eye.  
  
His friend hadn’t said a word of complaint when Miles did…well, _that_ …and the Spider-Man, though heading with all swiftness towards sleep that did not often happen when he was with himself in hand but seemed a lot stronger after having been with another person, made himself call out with grogginess but assured in the words.  
  
“Hey, Ganke? Thanks, man, really…”  
  
The sound of the cooler they kept near one of the windows opening, followed by the sound of a soda can being opened quickly took up the silent space between them; Ganke chugging down the sugar filled liquid with a gasp after swallowing and letting go, before answering with his awkwardness being tied down as much as Miles was sure he could manage for someone who had just sucked off their best friend and probably couldn’t keep from swallowing some of his spunk at the end.  
  
“It’s fine bud, really. You’re okay, right?”  
  
“…Mm-hm,” he replied, snuggling deeper into the blankets, image not unlike that of a hamster under cedar shavings or a kitten in a nest of bath towels, “Just what the doctor ordered.”  
  
Ganke allowed the light feeling at that admission to encompass the discomfort of the entirely too salty and odd taste in his mouth and let any obvious awkwardness fade out as he continued sipping his drink and wandered back over to make sure Miles was wrapped up, dropping the Spider-Man costume down at his best friend’s feet _(nothing had changed; strangely when he thought about it he didn’t feel any different about their relationship now than he did before, regardless of the dick-in-mouth thing)_ and stoked the fire, adding another log.  
  
Miles was asleep before Ganke even stood back up again, and he knew it, so he pulled out his phone to let Mr. Davis know that he and Miles might be out a little later than usual to get a bite and not to worry.  
  
Technically, not an _entire_ lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, in trying to write this chapter I learned more about uncircumcised and circumcised male genitalia than I ever wanted to know. Apparently the only resounding thing I've formed an opinion on is that uncut men are more likely to contract some sort of infection or STI (60% more likely) and if you want to get cut, do it when you're too young to know the difference or under the knife of a REALLY good doctor.


End file.
